


Portobello Blues

by julie



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Crew Break Up, Dubious Consent, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1987-10-01
Updated: 1987-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23699497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julie
Summary: Vila tries to escape Avon for a while on the planet Portobello – and meets a beautiful young man. Much to his surprise, the attraction is mutual. Should Vila pursue this unexpected romance planet-side, or return to the Liberator? And is Avon going to help or hinder his decision?
Relationships: Kerr Avon/Vila Restal, Vila Restal/Original Male Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	Portobello Blues

**Author's Note:**

> **First published:** in the zine “The Other Side” #4 by Clarke & Keating in the latter parts of 1987.  
> Reprinted in the zines “The Unique Touch” #2 by Crevichon Press in September 1988, and “Southern Comfort” #8.75 by Ashton Press in November 1994.

# Portobello Blues

♦

“I want to go a long way. North.” The ticket machine stood there whirring at him. Portobello. Primitive bloody planet. Why the hell did they keep human bartenders, but have moronic computers to sell you tickets? No logic in it. Vila gazed bleary-eyed at the screen, and finally realised how to query the routes available. 

“That’s more like it! Cheyne sounds a nice long way away.” The machine demanded cash or credit, so Vila fed in some cash he’d lifted from someone’s pocket. How else was he supposed to get local currency? _I suppose Avon would have simply stood here coolly reprogramming the computer to let him go free anywhere on the planet._

But at the thought of Avon, he felt his insides knot up again, the bile rising. He set his face, and determinedly pushed through the crowds to the transport. Sitting in Alpha-class luxury, dialling up what passed for soma while the stations flashed past, Vila felt somehow content. All that mattered was to keep moving. And to move this fast, in this much comfort, with such little effort, was almost soothing. 

He knew Avon was behind him, watching. Knowing always where he was. Tracing him, like Vila was a pet on a very long leash. But Vila hadn’t been game enough to leave his bracelet with the inbuilt tracer behind this time. Last time he had simply run; witless, untraceable. Run straight into trouble, alone and vulnerable. Federation troops looking for fun. Ones who hadn’t recognised him, ones who didn’t see the need to keep him alive for Servalan’s pleasure. Bored Federation guards on an exceedingly primitive world with some very unsubtle and unsophisticated ways of enjoying themselves. 

Vila stirred restlessly, a hand automatically clenching his ribs, his left side. The scars that even the Liberator’s med unit had failed to completely heal. He tried to blank out the memories, but the last remnant of fiery pain seemed as if it would never leave. And the physical pain, now a constant reminder of all the rest, had not been the worst of it. 

He looked around as the transport slowed; saw a woman had entered his compartment, and was now sitting opposite him, looking concerned. She was going to speak, ask if he was all right. Vila glared at her, his skin pale as it always was these days, his eyes turning to ice. She blanched, sat back, and ignored him studiously. So Avon had taught him some things worth knowing after all. 

Vila dialled another drink and settled further into the seat. All that mattered was to leave Avon behind for as long as possible. Because, as soon as he stopped, Avon would come and claim him again like so much baggage. He sighed. There was no escaping it. Avon was not the sort of man to say no to. Or even argue with. So all Vila was left with was this futile gesture: pretending to run away, knowing all the time that Avon was one cool, calculating step behind him. _Well, if a gesture is all I have, then I’m damn well going to make it._

But the drinks soured in his belly. What the hell was the point? 

The transport was slowing for another station, and Vila got up, blindly pushing his way out into the crowds, before queueing to ride the stairways up into the night air. Something stubborn in him made him keep walking north, through crowded alleys and covered-in walkways. There was no dome over the city, so the atmosphere was full of the heady smells of fresh air, and Vila would have seen stars overhead if he’d looked. He walked on, unheeding, picturing Avon sitting in orbit above at the teleport station, one step behind him. Avon the genius, who had never understood. Right from that first night on the last R’n’R stop-off, Avon had got it all wrong. What Vila had been offering, so timidly, was something like friendship, a bit of fooling around. (What else are friends for?) The possibility of love, even. What Vila received in return was something else. “Our arrangement,” Avon called it now, a satisfied sneer on his face. And Vila had numbly let Avon take what he wanted that night, and then he’d run. Run straight into trouble. 

Vila found himself standing still, with his legs aching. He looked around at the darkened buildings surrounding him, and the thinned-out crowds. His hand automatically held his left side, memories running like an all-night visual at the back of his head. There was no running. No saying no. No arguing or trying to explain. Vila vaguely tried to imagine what Avon would look like if he, Vila, tried to tell him what he had really felt about him. Utter incomprehension on Avon’s part. Utter humiliation for Vila. 

Vila looked around again, and wearily made his way to a nearby bar. He walked inside, bought himself a stiff drink, and found a dark booth to sit in up against the furthest wall. He stared morosely at his drink, not even bothering to scan the patrons for any light-fingered possibilities. 

It would only be a matter of minutes, Vila thought. He took off the teleport bracelet and placed it next to his drink on the table. And skolled the drink. Vila had found it helped to be tipsy these days. It provided some sort of glow to life, however artificial. 

His table was thrown into shadow as a figure loomed before him. “You took your time,” Vila muttered bitterly. 

“ _Did_ I?” An easy laugh followed the surprised words. 

Vila looked up quickly – and discovered a young man standing there with dark curls and laughing eyes. And two drinks in his hands. “I, er…” Vila stuttered. “No, I was expecting, er…”

“Oh,” the young man said, face falling. 

“No, don’t go!” Vila managed, briefly reaching out a hand in invitation. “I’d like the company.”

The man sat down, passing a drink over to Vila. He laughed lightly again. “I’d just like to say I don’t make a habit of this.” 

Vila’s dumbfounded gaze had been on the table, but it slid up to peer at the man’s face, visible now past the dark curls in the dim light from the bar. “Me, neither.” 

“Er… men, or being picked up?” 

Vila lifted his face. “Being picked up by gorgeous young men in bars. What about you?” 

His companion blushed, and looked away a little. “Well, everything really. You know…” 

“Yeah. I know.” Vila smiled suddenly, and reached a hand over to grasp the other man’s where it lay on the seat between them, discreetly hidden by the table. “What’s your name?” 

“Jordan.” 

“Vila.” He sat there a moment, unable to quit staring at the man beside him, slowly realising how young Jordan was… Maybe twenty Earth years at most, and lovely with it. Surely anyone would think so. Black curls tumbling down the back of his neck, bright dark eyes dancing, smooth pale cheeks, shy smile. And there was Vila feeling particularly seedy and crumpled and used just then. He spoke softly, “What on Earth is a beautiful thing like you doing picking _me_ up?” 

Jordan’s eyes slid away again. “Ah, you know… You must know.” 

“No, I don’t.” Vila squeezed the hand in his. 

“You know what it’s like around here.” 

“No, I don’t,” Vila repeated gently. “I don’t come from around here.” 

Jordan looked over at him, a little startled. He swallowed, then seemed to relax under Vila’s patient gaze. “There’s not many men around. Like us. And the ones that are… They can be a bit rough. Though perhaps they need to be. In defence…?” 

Vila turned his gaze to the other patrons in the establishment. “I see what you mean. Not the most cultivated specimens.” 

Inferring more from Vila’s expression, Jordan asked in horrified tones, “You didn’t even know what sort of bar this was?” Vila shook his head resignedly. “That’s luck! You coming in here tonight.” 

“Luck? Sheer bloody perversity,” Vila mumbled. Then he looked up, annoyed at himself for wiping the smile off Jordan’s eager face. “Well, thank the gods it was _you_ who picked me up, rather than one of the rougher customers.” 

Jordan blushed again and began chattering. “See, whatever they were like, I never stopped hoping there’d be someone else. Because I could never stop myself from wanting…” 

Vila nodded, and agreed ruefully. “My life story.”

“But I didn’t mean that how it sounded. Like, I always dream… but I won’t assume. I don’t want to frighten you off with my romantic daydreams.” 

Vila chuckled, happily still gripping Jordan’s hand. “You’re sweet. You do what you can,” he advised, “to not get rough like them.” 

“It’s not like they help it. There’s not enough of us around to be any different.” 

“You’ve a kind soul.”

Jordan’s smile grew. “That’s what I thought about you!” – Then he suddenly fixed Vila with a stare. “You’re not from around here,” he repeated slowly. “You’re an off-worlder, aren’t you?” 

Vila nodded unhappily. He was always blowing his cover. Not that Jordan seemed much of a threat, but if Avon knew… Well, never mind that for now. “It’s much the same everywhere, Jordan. Persecution. Getting put upon. I’m sorry. Don’t go thinking it’s better elsewhere.” 

They were silent for a moment, then Jordan asked uncertainly, “Vila, who were you waiting for?”

“He, er… My…” How exactly to describe _that_ relationship? “My arrangement,” Vila finally said with a bitter laugh. “We travel together. I was trying, just now, to stay out of his way. But I gave up, and came in here. He’ll know where I am.” 

“I’m glad you came here, though.” 

Vila looked up into the dark eyes. He didn’t say anything, but Jordan’s hand was now gripping his, and so tightly it was almost painful. Slowly Vila leaned forward, drawing Jordan closer to him simply by wishing it. Jordan’s eyes closed, Vila brushed his lips against the young man’s cheek… and then kissed him gently on the mouth. Jordan’s lips were tender, responsive beneath his. Vila shakily lifted a hand to run through the dark curls, to cup the boy’s elegant skull. 

Breath short, Vila broke the kiss, sat back against the wall. Jordan cuddled into him, under an arm, trying to hide a lopsided smile. “Sweet thing,” Vila murmured, his lips pressed to Jordan’s dark curls. But, despite Jordan’s warmth against him, their arms now firmly around each other, Vila couldn’t help wondering exactly what Jordan saw to attract him to Vila. 

He had always known he was never the prepossessing type. Never the one sought after, never attracting the men or the women, even when he was younger and looking a bit snappier than he did now. He had once made the mistake of thinking he could be Avon’s lover, and had been made continually aware ever since of how unworthy he was to aspire to such things. And yet here was one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen, picking him up in a bar. Cuddling up to him as if he, Vila, was the one he’d been waiting for. 

And even as he thought that, Jordan looked up at him, smiling engagingly, and Vila bent to kiss him again. The happy look in Jordan’s eyes was surely enough. _Can’t I at least accept I’m somewhat cuter than the other patrons of this bar?_ He held Jordan close to him, stretching his legs out with the boy moving to virtually lie against him. And Vila allowed himself to relax, to count on someone, to hazily appreciate the simple acts of touching and holding. Jordan’s warmth penetrating that icy grip on his heart. Jordan…

Again, the light from the bar was blocked, a figure standing impassively over the table. Vila slowly looked up to the chilly gaze, the sardonic twist of the lip. “You took your time,” he repeated, a laugh somehow escaping over the frost in his throat. Jordan had sat up and pulled out of his arms, looking askance at Avon. 

“I see you haven’t got yourself in quite as much trouble this time,” Avon observed. Jordan winced at the tone, staring at Vila, who was glaring up at Avon. Flicking a hand in the boy’s direction, eyes never leaving Vila, Avon said, “Send your friend away. We can talk.” 

Vila reached for Jordan’s hand, and clasped it in his own hand against his chest. “Mighty condescending of you. But I don’t think we have anything to say to each other. And my friend stays.” 

“You have a lot to explain to me, Vila. For a start, you can tell me why you’ve taken this pleasure jaunt across half the planet.” 

“If you haven’t figured it out –”

“If you wanted to run away,” Avon cut in, “then why the hell did you take a bracelet with you? Why didn’t you leave it behind, like last time?” 

“I didn’t want to get almost killed like last time.” Vila suddenly realised he was speaking through clenched teeth, with his throat aching, and Jordan trembling beside him. He loosed Jordan’s hand, pulled him closer, and put his arms back around him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into the boy’s hair. Then Vila looked up at Avon’s disbelieving sneer. “You’re right. I should have left the bracelet behind. You can take it back with you now. I’m not coming back.” 

“I leave you alone for half a day, and some planet-side romance melts your brain. Don’t be ridiculous, Vila.” 

“I thought I could stick it out. I thought that some things made it worthwhile. I was wrong. I’m giving up.” 

Avon’s gaze dropped, and he absently picked up Vila’s bracelet from the table. In a softer voice, he asked, “And what am I meant to tell Blake?” 

“Whatever you like. For my sake, make it the truth.” 

“Vila, we can talk about this…” 

“Just go away. Leave me alone!” 

Avon met his eyes again, and Vila saw he looked a little troubled. _Scared of explaining to Blake_ , Vila thought. “I’ll leave the bracelet,” Avon said. “We’ll be in orbit another two standard days.” 

“If I don’t call, _don’t_ try to come get me.” 

Avon looked down thoughtfully. “All right.” He cast a look over Jordan, held tight in Vila’s arms and clinging to Vila’s waist. “All right.”

Vila watched the black-clad figure walk out of the bar, then closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. He only realised he was weeping when Jordan’s fingertips tentatively brushed his cheeks. Vila lifted his head and looked into the boy’s dark eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t have had to listen to that.” 

“It’s all right,” Jordan said, echoing Avon’s words perhaps unconsciously. “You were brave.”

“You see, I thought I loved him once,” Vila found himself saying, his heart still pounding. “And I thought he knew that.” 

“You don’t have to stay with me tonight.”

Vila gazed at him. “Oh, Jordan, you sweet gentle thing. Don’t let me treat you bad. I hardly even remember anything different anymore.”

Jordan just smiled a little, pushed up to kiss Vila’s cheek. Vila crushed the boy to him; kissed his eager mouth. 

“Where can we go?” Vila asked breathlessly. 

♦

“Liberator. It’s Vila.” 

“Yes, Vila,” came Orac’s voice. 

“Record these exact coordinates in memory and bring me up, please.” 

And the bewildered gaze of the most beautiful man he’d ever met dissolved in the teleport’s static, became the cold black walls of the Liberator. Seeing no one but Orac at the controls, Vila let out a groan, and slammed a fist into the wall to try to relieve the tension. Then, massaging his hand, he proceeded stealthily towards his cabin. 

Everything was quiet, Vila was thankful to note. The last thing he wanted to do was confront any of the crew. Especially Blake. Especially Avon. But, as if he’d summoned the man’s presence by thinking his name, Vila turned a corner and just prevented himself from walking straight into Avon, who was half inside an access panel. Avon appeared more startled than Vila, dropping whatever tool he had in his hand. But then the habitual self-satisfied mask slid down, hiding the vulnerable eyes. “Vila. I should have –” 

Vila kept walking, his back as eloquently telling Avon to shut up as he could manage. Finally he got to his cabin, locked the door behind him, and fell back against it. He’d figured it would be difficult. There were loyalties to so many things here. And Jordan, constantly on his mind. Every now and then Vila felt like crying. Every now and then he laughed. It was like all the old visuals, all the old songs. And so unlike them, too. If he paused a moment, here in the dark, and breathed deep, he could catch Jordan’s warm, heady scent still on his clothes, his skin. 

Smiling, Vila turned the lights up to dim. He moved around the cabin, gathering things into a bag. The soma, bottles of brandy, and the rest were already in a couple of convenient boxes. He unscrewed a panel behind which he’d stashed what he considered his fair share of the jewels from the Liberator’s storage. He pulled together a few of the clothes from the Liberator’s wardrobes that he thought suited him best. There was a knock at the door. 

Vila tensed, then relaxed a little as he heard Blake’s voice, and walked over to let him in. Blake stood just within the doorway, apparently not knowing what to do with his hands. Vila went back to packing up his few mementoes, thinking of Blake’s large, reassuring hands. Maybe he should have offered his love to Blake. Blake would have treated him well, if Blake was into that sort of thing. But Vila had been mesmerised by Avon’s cold, brittle beauty, and had thought he was worthy of Avon’s attention… _Damn Avon to hell. I was worthy. I **am** worthy._

“You’re leaving, then?” Blake’s soft, deep voice interrupted his thoughts. “I didn’t believe –”

“Yes, I’m leaving.” Vila kept his back to the man, unwilling to meet his gaze or see his pity. 

“Why? What is it?” 

Vila sighed. He should have realised that Avon would offer no explanations. “Avon could have told you.” 

“Something’s happened between the two of you.” Not quite a statement, not a query. 

“I can’t stay on the Liberator with Avon here. It’s not any of the rest of you. I’ll even miss fighting for your Cause. But I can’t stay.” 

“But what’s happened? What is it?” 

Vila turned to him. “I can’t tell you. Not now there’s an end to it. It wouldn’t be fair to him.” 

Blake sighed, collapsed to sit on the rumpled bed. “I need you here. I need both of you.” 

“It won’t work, Blake. Look, the last few weeks I’ve been constantly drunk out of my mind. He’s why. I stuffed up that job on Axpadu because of it. I almost lost that guard on Beta III. I’m a liability – but keep him. He’s worth more to you.” 

Blake looked up, tentatively saying, “Avon told me there was someone on Portobello that you’d met. If you could bring her to the Liberator, could she…?” He stopped short at Vila’s wolfish smile. 

_Haven’t you figured that one out yet, Blake?_ “Yes, I met someone on Portobello,” Vila slowly replied. “He’s kind and brave and beautiful, and oddly enough he thinks I’m damned good in bed. Probably he’s just too young and innocent to know better, but I don’t plan on disillusioning him.” 

“Ah,” Blake said, his gaze having slid away again. “I didn’t realise.” 

“And the last thing I saw as I teleported up were tears on his face because he didn’t think I’d go back to him. I promised him I would.” 

Blake stood and turned away, apparently at a loss for words. “Are you, er… Do you…?”

“If it was a woman, you’d just come out and ask if I was in love with her, wouldn’t you?” 

Blake shrugged. “It’s not really any of my business.” 

“I’m very much in love with him. You should see him… he really is beautiful. And I’m getting older and balder and lonelier, and I was never very attractive. How do you think I feel? But I’m not even considering bringing him up here. Subjecting him to Avon’s scathing wit? I couldn’t do that.” 

“Vila, I don’t know what to say.” 

“Wish me luck, or something. I don’t know.” And Vila went back to packing, not bothering to be discreet about what he was taking with him. 

Blake was silent for a long while. “I feel I hardly know you anymore,” he said dejectedly. 

Vila turned to him, and sarcastically asked, “Because I’m a deviant?” 

Blake shook his head. “You always played the dunce, the drunkard. I knew you weren’t. But it’s such a shock hearing you talk now, in plain sight – as it were.” 

Vila snorted. “I played the lusty heterosexual pretty well, too.” 

“That’s not important –”

“Isn’t it, Blake? Then why the hell have I been made to suffer all my life?” 

“Vila, I might be surprised to find you homosexual, but I don’t think any the less of you for it. If I’m fighting for freedom, allow me to believe in those freedoms as well.” 

“I’m sorry, Blake,” he offered, though he remained focussed on his gear. “You get too used to prejudice every place you turn.” 

“What I was trying to say is, why did I have to wait until _now_ to hear you talk to me? One person to another? No playacting? Damn it, Vila! Why leave it till now?” 

Vila shrugged. 

“I tried to be your friend, Vila.” 

“I know.” 

The door opened and Avon entered without knocking. Blake flashed him a surprised look, but Vila didn’t even turn around. After a moment, Avon said, “You’re not leaving.” 

“I told you already.” 

“You kept the bracelet.” 

“There are things here I wanted.”

There was a pause. “Did you tell Blake why?” 

“I told him about Jordan.” 

“Not the rest?” 

“Only that we disagreed about something.” 

Blake interrupted. “What the hell was it?” 

Avon ignored him. “I didn’t realise you were so unhappy. I thought the arrangement suited us both.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Whatever else I think of you, I know you’re not stupid.” 

“What arrangement?” asked Blake, sounding suspicious. 

They both ignored him. Avon swallowed hard. “You’ve suggested many times that I know computers better than humans. I may well be… heedless when it comes to these matters.”

Vila just eyed him sourly. “A little humility a few weeks ago might have worked wonders.” 

“If you had _talked_ to me, told me you weren’t happy –”

“You were always marginally less approachable than Orac.” 

“That first night…” Avon paused. Blake was bewildered, looking from one to the other. 

“You really want to have all this out in front of Blake?” Vila asked, fastening his bag, hefting it off the desk. “You’re the one who has to live with him now! Well, I’ll leave you to tell him your side of the story. He’s got the imagination to figure out mine.” Vila walked to the door and opened it. “Avon, bring that box of grog, would you?” 

“Now, wait just one minute,” Blake said, grabbing at Vila’s arm. “If you’re leaving because of some misunderstanding with Avon, then you should stay here and talk it out with him first. I’m not losing a valuable member of my crew due to some lovers’ quarrel.” 

“Blake, don’t you understand? Here’s a Cause for you. Avon and I were never lovers… He just used me. Don’t you get it? Like the Delta I always was. But I’m not that anymore. You want to fight for freedom, Blake? Then let me go. There’s freedom finally for me, on that planet.” 

“Oh, very moving,” Avon remarked. “But there’s no freedom for you on Portobello. They don’t accept men like you in their society. They’ll give you no freedom, and the Federation will give you less when it takes over the planet. It’s only a matter of time, and you’ll be a Delta again – or worse.” Avon halted for a moment, and then declared, “The Liberator is the only place you’ll ever have a chance at your blessed freedom.” 

“I’m afraid he’s right, Vila.” 

“Blake, you can’t ask me not to go back to Jordan.”

“An R’n’R romance with some naive planet-dwelling boy. What does he –?” 

Vila stared Avon down, fury in his eyes. “I don’t care enough about your opinion, Avon, to let you goad me. I offered you my love, and you flung it back in my face. Now I’ve met someone who welcomes my love, and I’m not giving him up.” 

“But Vila, if he could –” Blake started. 

“Blake, I’m not bringing him up here to suffer Avon’s company. I’m not leaving him there and coming back alone. I have to go.” 

“Vila, if you and Avon have so completely misunderstood each other, there’s a chance to work this out.” 

“No,” Vila said firmly. Avon was stonily silent. Vila picked up the bags again, and Avon turned to carry the boxes. Blake followed them down the corridor. 

“If Cally was here, she’d know what to do,” Blake muttered morosely. “Why don’t you wait to talk to Cally?” 

“Jordan’s waited long enough,” Vila said. He stacked up his gear in the teleport chamber, then looked over at Blake. “Tell the others goodbye. Tell them what you like about why. Tell them I couldn’t face them to say goodbye myself.” 

Vila went to pick up a bracelet and put it on. Before he could move away, Avon reached for another and thrust it into his hands. “You have to come back,” Avon said in a low voice, looking down directly into Vila’s eyes. Vila suddenly recalled how it had felt to admire Avon, all those weeks ago. How it had felt to have his friendship. “You have to come back to the Liberator. Not to me. If you bring the boy, I promise I’ll be a friend.” 

Vila stared back, blinking away tears. He swallowed over the lump in his throat. “We both got it wrong, didn’t we, Avon? I got it wrong, too.” 

Avon shrugged. “We fulfilled each other’s expectations.” 

“I’m sorry, Avon.” 

“You can’t make a life down there. You have to come back, for your own sake. Bring him, too, if you must.” 

“How come you’re not always like this?” 

“Bloody Delta. I’m trying to make you see what a moronic choice you’ve made. We’ll be here one more standard day. Think it through.” 

Vila recoiled at the sudden harsh tone. “I don’t care if I got you wrong. I’ll never forgive you for how you treated me, whatever the reason. I don’t ever want to see you again. Those troopers that last time,” he spat, backing away so that everyone heard. “They didn’t do anything to me that you hadn’t done earlier that night.” At the expression on Avon’s face, Vila sneered. “Get your mind out of the gutter. There are other things that hurt and humiliate.”

He retreated to the teleport chamber, suddenly realising that Jenna was there, too, standing right behind him. She looked rather startled. “Vila, you have yet to explain it all to me.” 

Vila shook his head, unwilling to let her see how close he was to tears. “Get Blake to tell you some time. He knows most of the sordid details.” 

“You’re not just letting him go like this?” Jenna flared at the impassive Avon and the hapless Blake. 

“He has a spare bracelet and a day to think about it. He’ll be back.” 

“And does he have anything to come back for?” Jenna asked icily. Avon just stared imperviously back at her. 

“I’m sorry, Jenna,” Vila said. “Just set me down, would you?” 

She turned to clasp his hand in the old smuggler’s salute. “Just come back, all right?” 

He shook his head helplessly. Swallowed again over the lump in his throat. 

“Oh, let him be melodramatic. If anything I’ve said has got through that thick Delta skull, he’ll be back.” 

“Shut up, Avon,” Jenna snapped. She stalked over to the console. 

“Orac has the coordinates.” 

“Coordinates set.” 

“Vila…” 

“Teleport,” said Vila.

♦


End file.
